


Can't Happen Here

by SocialDegenerate



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDegenerate/pseuds/SocialDegenerate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We can never be together" kiss </p>
<p>(Reposted from Tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Happen Here

**Author's Note:**

> Technically I guess there's [a first part](http://socialdegenerate.tumblr.com/post/135237084156/bbkaz-and-3) to this, but it's a different pairing and you don't need to read it.

How no one was managing to connect the dots was truly driving Miller crazy. An obnoxiously talented young soldier, offhandedly referred to as one of the best military prospects since Naked Snake himself, who had a _very_ familiar jawline and eyes that burned with the same passion that his father's had in his younger days? How was it not _obvious?_

Then again, who around FOXHOUND knew what Big Boss had been like before the mess that was Diamond Dogs, knew what kind of a person he'd been before MSF had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, had spent as much time studying that _face_ as Miller had? Ocelot would have put it together in an instant but- thankfully, Miller thought- he had been nowhere to be found since the shitstorm that had ended DD.

So here Miller was, face-to-face with the young man whom Big Boss had personally head-hunted for FOXHOUND, and who no one else seemed to realise was a genetic clone of the man who Miller had been in and out of love with for around the same amount of time that David himself had been alive. Hell, as far as Miller could tell, David didn't even know that his commander was also his biological father.

It was obvious that David had been drinking, although he clearly wasn't drunk and was most likely just trying to relax a little; the image of alcohol and the man standing before his desk set something off in the very back of Miller's mind, something from back when he'd still thought he could make a difference and all four of his limbs were natural flesh and blood, but he quashed the thought in favour of staring David down even through his glasses.

He was the Hell Master for a reason.

To his credit, David didn't flinch and met Miller's glare head-on, his military posture perfect and his composure exactly as he'd been trained.

Satisfied, Miller eventually waved David down, foregoing the rest of the military formalities that tired him out when he was forced into using them. “What is it?”

David's gaze finally flickered away nervously, Miller catching the movement with a moment of realisation. The alcohol wasn't for relaxation, but rather Dutch courage, and Miller briefly wondered what the old MSF members would think if they knew how unapproachable their subcommander had apparently become.

Age and empty bitterness had a way of doing that, Miller supposed.

“Master Miller,” David began, pausing only to swallow and regain his steady eye contact, “I wanted to know if you could tell me what FOXHOUND's policy is on fraternisation.”

Behind his ever-present glasses, Miller narrowed his eyes, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “From what I hear around the base, that's something you should have thought about several conquests ago. You've been _busy_ since you got here, what, two months ago?”

David actually had the decency to look the tiniest bit ashamed, a quick twitch of his eyes that Miller recognised from Big Boss doing whenever Miller used to _really_ ream him out about having done something particularly stupid.

“I haven't actually...” David trailed off, shaking his head and coming back with renewed vigour. “I'm perfectly aware about agent-agent relationships, Master Miller.”

Miller forced himself not to react as he mentally went over that policy himself: not officially banned, but frowned upon regardless. Big Boss knew that too many restrictions would just lead to a bunch of elite spies and soldiers sneaking around and wasting their talents off the field, but he wasn't exactly tolerant of on-base relationships.

Miller was fairly certain he shouldered at least some of the blame for _that_ , considering what had happened with Swan and Armadillo way back when, among other incidents. Boss had never liked dealing with personal, non-battlefield-related issues that popped up when you had a few hundred soldiers living on an offshore base.

“I was wondering,” David continued, drawing Miller back to the present, “about the policy on inter-rank relationships.”

“Inter-rank?”

“Say...between an agent and an instructor.”

Miller had heard the jokes. He'd seen for himself the way that David's eyes sometimes lingered on him that little bit too long, had noticed the way that David always seemed that little more intent on his lectures than anyone else's. He'd been getting looks like the ones David sent him for a _very_ long time, although admittedly they were usually coming from more feminine eyes.

But he'd never actually expected David to approach him about it, and so he'd never actually considered how to react.

His immediate instinct was disgust, disgust that someone less than half his age would ever want a bitter soldier with only some of his original parts, disgust at the idea of touching a man who wasn't Big Boss, eventually followed up by the lagging thought of _Oh, right, and I'm married_.

Some sick, sad part of his mind, though, couldn't help but consider the _possibility_. David was a largely passable facsimile of his genetic father, good-looking in that youthful way that Big Boss surely had been before Miller had met him. He was obedient, far more so than his little shit of a brother had been, and the demands of the military hierarchy meant that Miller would be pulling the strings at any and all points.

He'd never managed to have Big Boss, and it still stung even now that his feelings towards the man skewed more in the direction of bitterness and vaguely strained professionalism. David was young and eager, and had never pulled a cruel betrayal and ripped Miller's heart out of his chest.

The moment that Miller realised he was sizing David up with new eyes was the moment that he knew he'd gone too far. David was a clone of Big Boss, yes, but he _wasn't_ Big Boss. There was no way that Miller could taint someone still hanging on to the very last vestiges of their youth, no way he could drag someone so _unbroken_ into his own depravity.

Time and the work they did would surely break David in their own ways eventually, and so Miller knew he had to let the _boy_ cling to whatever unbroken parts of his mind that he might still have. That meant refusing to put his hands on David in any context that wasn't strictly military approved.

It was obvious from the look on David's face that he knew that Miller had gotten his point, but to his credit he barely reacted when Miller pinned his gaze through tinted glass, firmly and obviously shaking his head. “No.”

“What?” David asked. _Playing dumb_ , Miller thought, _Never a good look_.

Standing up, still feeling that little pinch of his prosthetic leg that no amount of upgrading had ever managed to truly erase, Miller took slow steps around his desk to meet David on the other side. It was a mistake to get so close to such a painfully familiar-looking man, but Miller couldn't keep sitting down as David stood over him. “I said no. Don't entertain the thought, Rookie.”

The unfamiliarity obviously stung David, who ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his eyes. “But I-”

“ _No_.”

David let out a sound of frustration, and Miller vaguely noted how much easier it was to provoke a reaction from David than it was his father. Maybe, just maybe, it would be worth trying…

“No,” Miller said again, more to himself than to David this time. Still, it seemed like the simple repetition blew David's final fuse, and strong hands were suddenly wrapped up in the front of the simple t-shirt that Miller was wearing. Although he was fully aware that David's brute strength alone wouldn't help him should Miller decide to put his years of experience to good use and free himself, Miller simply stood still and waited to see what David would do next.

The kiss that David suddenly laid on him wasn't entirely unexpected, the contact again setting off something in the back of Miller's brain. He ignored the thought and all his instincts to react, though, staying as still as a goddamn statue as David attempted to coax him into participating.

Finally realising that it wasn't going to happen, David let his hands drop from Miller's shirt and took a big step back, his stare glued to the floor as Miller smoothed back his long hair and straightened his top. “If that's out of your system now, Rookie, you're dismissed.”

David still didn't look at him, but he didn't make a move to leave either. “I-”

“ _Dismissed_ ,” Miller snapped, making his way back around the desk and dropping heavily back into his chair. He watched David unsuccessfully try to compose himself before leaving the office, only briefly hoping that no one would be around to witness him leave.

Once he was certain that he was alone, Miller let himself slump forward over his desk, his head hanging in his prosthetic hand while his flesh one ripped open a drawer. He fumbled around for the flask he'd started keeping on hand sometime during his residence in the Seychelles, hand closing around it with a fleeting feeling of relief.

Taking a pull straight from the flask- whiskey, not the good stuff either- Miller dropped it onto his desk and quickly followed it up by driving his fist into the wood, a sound of pure anger leaving his mouth as he wondered how exactly this had become his life.

Working under the man he'd been infatuated with for the longest time, working over the fucking clone of that man who apparently wasn't smart enough to realise who would be good for him…

Taking a second, deeper pull from the flask, Miller resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to get drunk enough to leave him with a terrible hangover in the morning.

Fucking Snakes. They were going to be the death of him.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr yo](http://socialdegenerate.tumblr.com)


End file.
